Three notes had been cashed in Paris on the 21st of April.
Five notes had been cashed in Florence during the months of May and June.
A note had been cashed at Brest in August, one at Rennes in the same month, two at St. Malo in September. There was nothing later than this.
The notes bore the address as well as the signature of the writer. On those last notes cashed at St. Malo the address was,
Hotel Chateaubriand,
St. Servans.
It was the beginning of November. Cyril was in a position to trace Miss Harefield’s movements up to the 29th of September. She might have remained even longer at St. Malo. It was clearly there that he must go.
Happily for his impatience, which was extreme, the St. Malo boat sailed that night from Southampton. Within twenty-four hours after he left the Union Bank, Cyril was in the broad windy street of St. Servans.
The proprietress of the hotel perfectly remembered Miss Harefield. They had many English visitors, but this lady was so distinguished. She was at once so amiable and so dignified. She and her companion had always dined in their own salon. They had never appeared at the table d’hôte. They had engaged a carriage for their express use, and had driven about to all the interesting places in the neighbourhood. The landlady was obligingly communicative, but when she was asked where Miss Harefield went upon leaving St. Servans, her information came to a stop. There was the visitors’ book, in which Miss Harefield and Madame Leonard had written their names, but beyond their names nothing.
‘But these ladies must surely have given instructions for their letters being sent after them,’ said Cyril.
‘But no, Monsieur. They received no letters while they were here; they appeared to expect none.’